Married To My Sister's Arranged Fiance

Nine

Kayla

The air in my father’s study felt thin, as if the oxygen were being sucked out by the sheer weight of his authority. Christian Vanoss sat behind his desk, the light of a single lamp casting long, jagged shadows across his face. He looked like an old-world king, one who was used to moving people like pawns on a board.

I stood before him, my hands clasped behind my back. I had spent the last three hours preparing for this moment. I had practiced my tone, my posture, and the way I would look him in the eye without blinking.

"You’re asking for what, exactly?" my father asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"I am proposing a strategic adjustment, Father," I said, my voice as steady as a heartbeat. "Elena is fragile. We both know it. The stress of this wedding, the pressure of the DeRico expectations—it is breaking her. If she collapses before the ceremony, or worse, during the honeymoon, the alliance is compromised. Roberto DeRico will see it as a sign of weakness in our bloodline."

My father narrowed his eyes. "She is the eldest. The tradition is clear. The first daughter seals the bond."

"Tradition is only useful if it works," I countered, stepping closer to the desk. "I have been watching Xavier. He is a man who values strength, intellect, and control. Elena cannot give him those things. She will be a burden to him, and eventually, he will resent us for it. But I... I understand the business. I understand the DeRicos. I can manage him in a way Elena never could."

My father leaned back, his chair creaking. He looked at me as if he were seeing me for the first time. For years, I had been the "quiet" one, the one who stayed in the library. He hadn't realized that while I was reading, I was also learning how his world worked.

"You are suggesting you take her place," he stated. It wasn't a question.

"I am suggesting I become the bride," I said. "We don't need to make a public spectacle of the switch. The contract can be amended privately. I will wear the veil. I will sign the papers. By the time Xavier realizes the change, the alliance will be legally binding. And frankly, Father, once he sees what I bring to the table, he won't care about the name on the birth certificate."

"And what of Elena?"

"She needs to be sent away," I said, my heart hammering. This was the most important part of the lie. "She needs a 'rest.' Send her to the estate in Italy. Tell the world she is recovering from the 'excitement' of the engagement. It keeps her safe, it keeps her out of the spotlight, and it allows me to secure our future without her interference."

My father tapped a gold pen against the desk. The sound felt like a ticking bomb. I knew he was weighing the risk. On one hand, it was a breach of tradition. On the other, he knew I was right about Elena’s fragility. He had seen her crying; he had seen her shaking. He knew she was a liability.

"Xavier is not a fool, Kayla," my father warned. "He has seen Elena. He has spoken to her."

"He has seen a terrified girl who barely spoke," I reminded him. "He doesn't know her heart. He doesn't know her mind. When I step in, I will play the part of the 'dutiful Vanoss daughter' until the ring is on my finger. After that, it won't matter."

Suddenly, the door opened. Tristan walked in, his face grim. He looked from me to our father, his eyes sharp.

"I heard the proposal," Tristan said, his voice deep. "I’ve been watching Elena too. She’s at her breaking point, Father. If we push her into that house, she’ll be dead within a year. Either by her own hand or because she makes a mistake that Xavier won't forgive."

I looked at my brother. I hadn't expected his support, but I realized then that he loved Elena in his own silent way. He wanted her safe, even if it meant helping me with a dangerous lie.

"You agree with this madness?" my father asked Tristan.

"I agree that Kayla is a better match for a man like DeRico," Tristan said. "She’s got ice in her veins, just like you. Elena is all heart. Heart gets you killed in this business."

My father looked back at me. I could see the gears turning. He was a man of profit and loss. Elena was a loss. I was a potential profit.

"The DeRicos haven't been informed of any change," my father said. "If we do this, it has to be seamless. The papers must be signed under the Vanoss name, but the identity must be yours. If Roberto feels insulted, he will burn our docks before the ink is dry."

"He won't feel insulted if the alliance holds," I said. "I will make sure of it."

My father stood up, his massive frame blocking the light. He walked around the desk until he was standing directly in front of me. He was searching for a c***k, for a sign that I was doing this for love or rebellion. But I gave him nothing. I gave him the face of a soldier.

"You realize what you are giving up?" he asked. "Xavier DeRico is not a husband who will cherish you. He is a man who will own you. Your life will no longer be your own. You will be a DeRico until the day you die."

"I am already a Vanoss, Father," I replied. "I have never belonged to myself. At least this way, I choose the cage."

The silence stretched on for an eternity. I could hear the rain hitting the window, the distant sound of a guard’s boots on the gravel. My whole life—and Elena’s life—hung on the next word out of his mouth.

"Fine," he said, his voice cold and final. "We will make the switch. Tristan, prepare the transport for Elena. She leaves for Italy tonight, under cover of darkness. No one is to know. Not the staff, not the associates, and especially not the DeRicos."

"I'll handle it," Tristan said, nodding to me once.

"And you," my father said, pointing a finger at my chest. "You start your lessons tomorrow. You will learn everything Elena was taught. You will become the bride he expects. If you fail, if he finds out before the wedding and calls off the deal, I will not protect you from his wrath. Do you understand?"

"I understand," I said.

I turned and walked out of the study before he could change his mind. My legs felt like jelly, but I forced myself to keep a steady pace until I reached the hallway. I found Elena waiting in the shadows near the stairs, her face pale and tear-stained.

"He agreed," I whispered.

Elena let out a breath that sounded like a sob. She threw her arms around me, shaking. "Thank you, Kayla. Oh God, thank you. I'll never forget this. Never."

"Go," I said, pulling back. "Tristan is coming. You need to pack only what you can carry. He’s taking you to the private airfield. Once you’re in Italy, you stay hidden. You don't call, you don't write. You wait for my signal."

"What about Nate?" she asked.

"Tristan will handle Nate. He’ll get him to a safe house until we can move him to meet you. But you have to move now."

I watched as my sister disappeared into the darkness of the hallway, heading toward a freedom that was being bought with my life. I felt a strange mixture of relief and absolute terror. I had saved her. I had saved the baby.

But as I looked at my own reflection in a nearby mirror, I realized I was no longer Kayla Vanoss, the quiet girl from the library. I was a ghost. I was a lie.

And in less than two weeks, I would be walking down the aisle to meet a man who was famous for uncovering lies and punishing the people who told them.

Xavier DeRico was waiting for a bride. He just didn't know that the girl he was getting was far more dangerous than the one he had bargained for.

I went to my room and closed the door. I sat on my bed, staring at the empty space where Elena’s ivory dress had been. The room felt cold. The house felt like a tomb. I was alone now, the only one who knew the truth in a den of vipers.

I thought of Xavier’s face—the way he had looked at me on the balcony, that sharp, piercing curiosity. He hadn't even met me properly yet, and he was already looking for a way in.

I took a deep breath, clutching the bedsheets. I had to be perfect. I had to be a masterpiece of deception. Because if I tripped, if I faltered for even a second, the "Ice King" would shatter me into a thousand pieces.

The switch was made. The plan was in motion. And as the moon disappeared behind a thick blanket of clouds, I knew there was no turning back.